


Confessional

by BronzeLetter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Car Sex, Choking, Dirty Talk, Excessive Swearing, F/M, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Slut Shaming, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronzeLetter/pseuds/BronzeLetter
Summary: Have you readConfessions of an Ackleholicby DeansDirtyPiehole, yet?  I submitted my own confession to this, and decided it would be fun to write my own version of it, because why not?Summary: You piss Dean off, and he punishes you with that dick.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece of plotless porn was in part inspired by me and in part inspired by the AO3 user DeansDirtyPieHole. This particular user has a highly interesting story/thread where other users’ fantastical confessions about Dean/Jensen have been sent in and commented and are then transformed into a ficlet. I sent one in, and then decided to write my own take on it. Here’s what I commented. It is Confession #44. “I love to think about Dean/Jensen just pulling over in the middle of the night during a long drive, saying something along the lines of "Bend the fuck over, you dirty girl" and just getting fuckin' nuts in the back of the car/bed of the truck, whatever. Just crazy, sweaty, yelling sex and all because he just felt like it. He doesn't care if I want it, but that turns me on. He takes what he wants. He wraps his hand around my throat, and punishes me with that dick.” Enjoy! :) Also, if you'd like to chat about this story, writing Supernatural fiction, etc, please feel free to email me at BronzeLetterFiction@gmail.com

Confessional

“Dean, I’m sorry. I ju-“

“You know what, Y/N, I don’t wanna hear it! You showing up was total bullshit!” Dean yelled. He was _pissed_. You had decided that instead of staying put in that fleabag motel and watching crap late-night TV infomercial hell, that you were more useful in that vamp nest, kicking ass and taking names. At least, that was the plan, once Dean left the room. You had gotten dressed quickly, as soon as the rumbling of the old Ford pickup Dean was currently driving was no longer audible (the Impala was temporarily out, parked at Bobby’s, waiting on parts). Jeans, boots, holey old t-shirt. Knife, wallet, cell phone. “How the fuck did you even get out to that nest?”

“I hitched,” you said plainly, watching the trees zip by, illuminated by the truck’s headlights. The clock on the dash said it was 4:47.

“Jesus FUCK, Y/N! That was so fucking dumb!”

“I wanted to help,” you offered, crossing your arms and releasing a puff of air.

“Yeah, and you almost got yourself killed.”

“I was doing ok! I got one of them!”

“If I wasn’t there, you’d be freakin’ dead- or worse right now, Y/N,” his voice had a warning tone.

“I’m not a child, Dean!”

“God,” he chucked ruefully, baring his teeth as he glared out the front window of the beat up old truck. You focused on a big spidered crack near the rear view mirror. “I feel like I have to go over this stupid conversation so many times… Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same shit over and over and expecting something different to finally happen?”

You didn’t reply. Dean’s jaw flexed.

“You have a death wish or something? I gotta know if we’re going to keep bumping into each other.” He glanced your way, his eyes dark, face glowing green front the lighted dash.

“Fuck you,” you spat. Dean laughed again dryly, turning his attention back to the road.

“Fuck you, too, sweetheart.”

You said nothing else, and Dean turned the volume knob on the radio. The speakers crackled, but no music played. He signed, but didn’t bother turning the volume down. The truck cab was tensely quiet except for the static and the rattling of the old beater truck. Silence persisted for what felt like years, but when you looked at the clock again, it only said “6:03” and the first blushing of pink light from the impending sunrise was just visible through the trees on the right side of the road. Cautioning a glance at your hunting partner, he still looked grumpy, but the tension in the chilly air seemed to have lessened a bit. The sky continued to brighten and you had finally resolved to say something when the truck slowed to a stop on the shoulder. Dean turned to look at you, his expression hard, as he turned off the truck. He left the keys in the ignition and extinguished the lights.

“What-“

“Get out of the truck,” Dean said shortly, cutting you off again. You didn’t move a muscle, frozen on the frayed green fabric of the bench seat. “Come on, Y/N, get out,” he repeated.

“You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

“So you can hitch again? With all two cars we’ve seen in the past hour and a half? Fuck no.”

Brushing your palms on your dirty-ass jeans, you did as told, pulling on the half-broken door handle and sliding onto the ground. The gravel crunched under your boots as you turned and slammed the rusted door. You wiped your palms again nervously on your thighs and leaned up against the vehicle. Dean’s door shut next and you could hear his footsteps rounding the bed quickly. He was on you in a second, pushing your body roughly with his own, pressing you to the decaying metal of the pickup. Dean’s eyes bored into yours, his lips parted, hands on either side of your head. Suddenly, you were very aware of his knee pushing your thighs apart and his chest against yours.

“Dean…” you mumbled, anger and tension escaping your body, making your limbs feel tingly.

“You always make me fucking worry, Y/N,” Dean said, voice still laced with anger. The air from his words hit your cheek, warm in contrast to the cool morning breeze. There was a pause and you held your breath. The tall man, looming over you, grabbed your hip roughly, making you gasp. He took advantage of your open mouth, melding his lips to yours. His tongue invaded, and you dissolved into him, hands coming to rest at his waist. Dean jammed his stocky frame into yours, almost knocking the wind from your lungs. He pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and sucked, making it swell and causing you to moan loudly.

Dean growled, the already-hard bulge in the front of his pants against your hip. You threaded your fingers into his messy hair and gave it a firm tug. He took a sharp breath and pulled back abruptly, releasing your tender lip. His pupils were blown wide and his lids heavy. He stared down at you while yanking open the truck door, flinging it open wide. It shuddered on its squeaky hinges.

“Bend the fuck over, you naughty girl,” Dean breathed into your ear. You hesitated only briefly before shoving at his shoulders. He took a step back and watched you climb onto the running board, facing the driver’s seat. You unbuttoned your pants and untied your knife from your thigh and belt loops and threw it onto the dash with a clatter. “Fuck, Y/N,” you heard Dean say, his voice low. His coarse hands grasped the waist of your jeans, yanking them to your knees. A hand on the small of your back pushed you down. With an “oof,” your upper body hit the seat, and you tucked your arms under yourself, leaning on your forearms. Another shiver rocketed down your spine as Dean’s breath ghosted over your barely-covered lady bits.

“I love this little pink thong,” he muttered, his scruffy jaw prickling the skin on your ass cheek. You felt a finger slip past the barrier of your lace underwear and push inside your pussy completely. 

“Oh god damn,” you swore, voice muffled by the seat. His finger twisted inside you.

“Yeah?” he questioned rhetorically, and just as fast as it had happened, his finger was gone. You whimpered at the loss. “Did you wear it just for me?” Dean asked, lips brushing the fabric right over the spot he had just dipped into. His breath was hot and your body was screaming for more. 

“N-no,” you said in a small voice.

“No, what?” he demanded, hands sliding up your ass and hooking around the band of the pink lace.

“No, Dean.”

“Love it when you say my name, you bad girl,” he mumbled. “Can’t decide if I should lick you first or just fuck you.”

All you could do was moan at his words. Your reply wouldn’t make a difference. Dean would do as he pleased with you either way. You mercifully felt the thong join the fabric of your jeans then, still bunched around your knees which were spread as far as the denim would allow. The morning air was still chilly on your exposed skin, especially as you yanked your t-shirt and bra off in one motion, tossing the articles onto the dash. The stark difference in temperature was thrilling, your nipples standing at attention immediately. 

“You really are a little slut,” he chuckled, grabbing your cool cheeks and squeezing hard. You gasped. “That pussy is so wet fucking wet already. I barely even touched it.” You sunk your teeth into your arm as you felt his index finger slide down your folds. The breeze brushed your skin again, and just when you thought he had backed away, two hands were spreading you open and a hot, wet tongue began to lap at your clit. You nearly screamed at the sudden, overwhelming feeling.

“Oh…” you moaned into the dirty seat. “Fuck, Dean, that feels good!” His scratchy face always made the skin of your inner thighs raw, but it felt wickedly good as he began to suck on that little bundle of nerves. Your toes curled in your boots, legs shaky as he manipulated you with those plush lips. He sucked your clit intensely, brushing his tongue across it at the same time, and it was driving you insane. The noises were constant now from your lips, and you were unable and uncaring about how loud you were. Dean always made you loud. A strong hand slid down the side of your leg and pulled you closer, then slid under your belly to hold you up. 

You were getting close, and he knew it. With and audible “pop,” he released you, and you groaned loudly and gasped for breath. You squealed loudly as two fingers entered you roughly. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” Dean ground out, fingers curling inside you before sliding almost completely out and back in again, pressing down on your g-spot. “And that pussy is soaked.” His lips were kissing the small of your back as he continued his nearly bruising pace with is fingers, bumping into that perfect place over and over again. You could hear how wet you were, coating your inner thighs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

“Please,” you nearly pleaded, eyes open but unfocused. You wanted him so badly, it was almost physically painful. 

“Please, what?” His teeth scraped along your skin and his fingers stopped moving inside you. 

“Please, Dean. Fuck me.” You sounded breathless and desperate and you squeezed hard around his digits. “Fuck me hard.” Dean stepped back and unzipped your boots and yanked them from your feet. You heard them hit the ground. A pair of hands grasped your thighs and lifted you onto the seat, now on your hands and knees on the musty fabric. He ripped your jeans and underwear down your legs and off, socks getting stuck in the fabric and coming off too. You crawled forward a bit to make space for Dean as you heard the jingle of a belt buckle and then a zipper. His shirt hit the floor and the seat dipped under his weight as he climbed up behind you. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” Dean husked. His breathing was already quick and the truck windows were beginning to get foggy. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. The man behind you groaned loudly as he brushed the head of his cock on your soaked folds. “Oh fuck.”

Without fanfare, he plunged into you, all the way, already balls-deep inside you. His generous girth was deliciously painful- he knew it, and he knew that you loved when he stretched you to your limit. A deep groan fell from your lips involuntarily as you clenched around him. Dean’s palms pressed into the soft flesh of your hips. 

“Take that fat fucking cock, baby,” he growled as he backed out slowly. You reached for the steering wheel, preparing for an onslaught, white-knuckling the faux wood and cracked green vinyl. “You’re a naughty bitch.” He slammed into you again with an animalistic grunt, and you felt him twitch inside you. You were helpless as he thrust into your wet pussy again and again and you knew you couldn’t get away from him if you tried. Dean’s large hands, gripping bruises into your hips now, pulled your body into his as much as they held you down. A smirk dusted your lips as an idea formed in your brain.

“Let me go!” you exclaimed. Your voice sounded pathetic, even to your own ears. Dean inhaled sharply. 

“Fuck no,” he grated out, emphasizing “fuck” with a particularly sharp thrust. A noise, somewhere between a moan and scream ripped from your throat. You made an attempt to crawl away from Dean, using the steering wheel to pull yourself away from the man behind you, suppressing a deviant giggle. This was one of your favorite games. “Get the fuck back here, Y/N!” Dean grabbed your shoulder and gripped hard. Another cry came from you, and he continued fucking you at a brutal pace, his balls slapping your clit and making your legs shake. Dean pushed you down into the striped fabric of the seat, his forearm across your back, effectively pinning you down. Gasping at the sudden angle change, he hit your g-spot with voracity. The sudden gush of wetness did not go unnoticed. Dean chuckled coldly. “I knew you didn’t want to get away from me, sweetheart.” 

You felt his weight shift on the bench before his tongue licked a stripe between your shoulder blades, his arm across your back now sliding up your body. Thick fingers wrapped around your messy ponytail and pulled. He jerked you up, your head now pulled back, eyes on the dusty headliner of the truck. 

“You really love it when I punish you with this dick.” His dirty words, breathed in your ear made you whimper. Dean pressed his unoccupied hand to your lower belly for leverage as he fucked up into you. Your whole body was trembling now. His skin on your back felt blisteringly hot against you, beginning to damped with sweat. The sun was nearly up now, and you reached out, swiping at the rearview mirror, knocking it askew, with an additional adjustment, you could now see Dean’s face. “Fuck, you’re bad,” his voice was rough, his eyes locked with yours, eyes dark and primal. Your cheeks were hot pink, lips kiss bitten and parted. Your hair was a wreck. 

“Wrap your hand around my throat, you moaned, pressing your ass back against him, matching his thrusts. You screamed when Dean slapped your clit.

“Don’t fucking tell me how to do my job,” he barked, but did as you asked anyway, fingers squeezing the sides of your throat in the most intoxicating way. He didn’t hold you hard enough to actually restrict your air flow much at all, but suddenly you felt dizzy, grasping at his arm with both of your hands. The knowledge that he could really god damn choke you to death, but wouldn’t, was such a turn on. Your eyelids slipped shut and you clenched around him. This pulled a vulgar moan from Dean, his hips stuttering.

“Uhhh, fuck!” you yelled, voice almost squeaky, but you didn’t care. You fluttered around the hard cock inside you, the feeling electric, sending little jolts to your toes. 

“Do it sweetheart,” Dean breathed, lips smashing into your shoulder, sucking your heated skin. You were so close to the edge, and watching him kiss you was so sexy. He slid his other hand up your body, his thrusting becoming erratic. His skilled fingers teased a nipple roughly before pinching hard. Your orgasm exploded within you, your hot cunt clamping down on Dean’s dick. A scream filled the truck cab and it took half a second for your to realize it had been from you. Waves rolled over you, more wetness soaking you both, your inner thighs slick. You couldn’t focus on the mirror anymore or Dean’s hand around your throat, only the intensity of the feeling radiating from your center. 

“Holy shit,” you heard him groan. He thrusted three more times, the sound of your wetness obvious as his cock throbbed hard, four or five times, coating your insides with his own sticky mess. Moaning loudly one more time, his hands sliding to your hips, gentle now. 

You were both breathing hard as he slid back, softening length slipping from your body. You sighed at the sudden emptiness, body feeling sore, and reached for the roll of paper towels that you knew was on the floorboards under the driver’s seat with shaky hands. Dean pressed a soft, wet kiss to your shoulder blade. You took a wad of paper to clean yourself off and handed the roll to Dean. 

“You didn’t forget the safe word, did you?” he asked, his feet hitting the gravel outside the truck door. He sounded a little concerned. You turned to look at him, tossing the paper in a clump onto the floor. Dean wiped himself too, but maintained the skeptical eye contact. Moving slowly, you sat your ass down on the seat, suddenly feeling exhausted. You grabbed your clothing from the dash and untangled your purple bra from your shirt. His hand gently grasped your upper arm. A quick beat passed before you spoke, Dean’s eyes locked with yours. 

“How could I ever forget a word like ‘gubbins’?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, seemingly satisfied, and he turned, pulling up his pants before retrieving your abandoned clothing from the gravel. You just barely caught the grin he attempted to hide as you began to dress. 

“Here’s your shit,” he grumbled, smile gone as he dropped your boots, jeans, and socks onto the seat next to you.

“Excuse me,” you said playfully, now your time to smile. You pulled the hair tie from your long locks, smoothing it pointlessly.

“What?” he asked, looking a little nervous.

“Is that my thong in your pocket, mister?” You could see a tiny flash of pink over the top edge of his left pocket. Dean snorted, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. You laughed, looking at his handsome face in the clear morning light. He looked gorgeous. “Keep it.” His smile returned, broad and genuine. He shook his head and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on over his head and then closed the passenger door. You had your jeans on before he climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the truck. It growled to life and he wiped his face with his hand before putting the hunk of rust with wheels in drive and back out onto the roadway. You didn’t bother with your socks and boots.

“You’re still in trouble,” Dean said gruffly about ten minutes later, eyes focused on the road. His hair was messier than usual, and the color in his face was lively. 

“I know,” you confirmed, voice cheerful, but quiet. You laid down on the seat, head resting on Dean’s thigh. You yawned, rubbing your face on the grungy denim. Dean switched his hands on the wheel, steering with his left, and threading his right hand into your hair. “You can punish me again later,” you murmured. Dean laughed quietly as you yawned again, welcoming sleep with open arms. 


End file.
